My books are character driven, which means I can't sit down and plot the whole book out; things change as people do. Even if I could, the book would feel pre-written and boring. Ask me how I know.

The great part about that is every day of writing is a surprise. The downside is that every day starts with a blank page. I brainstorm, come up with ideas, but essentially, writers make something out of nothing.

Right now I know sort of how Black Hound ends, but how the book gets from where I am to that point. Every day I solve more of that puzzle.

This is the part where I usually get fussy and start to think I should query a publisher, have someone else deal with cover design, formatting and edits. The temptation's always there, but it's so nice having control of the process...when I'm not tired. Never make decisions when you're tired, sick or stressed.

As it is, I'm thinking of buying a Mac just so I can use the Vellum book formatting program. It would be nice to spend less time on technical stuff. We'll see.

Snippet: I’m magic, cuz.

It's been about a month, so I thought I'd share. Here you go:


From the next Convergence book. No release date yet.

Black Hound

She woke the next day refreshed. It was Monday and everyone had to work. She was glad of it as she loaded up her charcoal gray, armored SUV. Ike and his friends had been very helpful, but she needed space and quiet to create. Although she could meditate with an audience, it was so much easier when she was alone.

Even so, she’d promised Ike she’d keep her cell phone handy and contact him if the slightest thing went wrong.

Her smile died as she bumped up the rutted road to the Yard, plans to smooth the road forgotten. Something black covered her formerly shiny Watchtower. She might have mistaken it for cast iron, but it swallowed light. It was also hard to look at, emitting a subtle energy that was dazzling to the eyes.

“What the French toast,” she swore, along with a few other choice words. She was all set to work, and now this. She debated briefly, but she’d promised. Dialing her cousin, she told Ike, “There’s some kind of crap coating the Watchtower. I’m in my car, doors locked, and I’m about to scan it. I’ll leave you on speaker.” That done, she closed her eyes and did a careful scan of the alien matter.

“Huh. It’s a metal, but nothing I’ve seen before. Figures. Hang on, I’m going to poke it.” She mentally tossed a car door and a hubcap at the tower, but nothing happened. She made a thoughtful noise. “Nothing. Standby.” She probed deeper, testing the metal’s properties. It was wonderfully malleable, but all metal was to her. It was hard, yet not brittle, like spring steel.

“Talk to me, cuz,” Ike ordered, his voice echoing a bit as if he were in the shop.

“It’s living steel. Well, not living,” she corrected, searching for a word. “It’s not sentient, but it responds to magic, which might be why it coated the tower.” She made a sound of frustration. “I don’t think it’s dangerous…to me…but I need more time to investigate before I move into the tower.”

“Do you need me?”

“No. I’m going to set up a bunker to work from. Since it’s just me, I’ll drive into the space I cleared earlier, set the robots on watch and form a shelter around me.  I can have it up in ten, fifteen minutes.”

There was a long silence. “Why didn’t you do that yesterday?”

Good question. Slightly embarrassed, she said, “Um…there was flying metal to play with?”

“And people to watch your back. Fine. Keep the speaker on.” He sounded resigned. “I’ll do paperwork while I wait.”

“You know you won’t be able to concentrate. Why don’t you clean the bathroom? It needs it.”

He said something rude, but didn’t disconnect.

She could visualize him pacing. Maybe she should have brought him along, spared his ulcer.

She drove into the Yard, but not far. Between the robots and her building project yesterday, she’d cleared some space, but not much.

This sucked. She’d have to root the building in magic, and she hadn’t wanted to do that until she’d stuck an anchor in the far side of the Yard. It was always easier if anchors were placed at the compass points first to help “pin” things down, prevent the pool of magic from spreading and taking over more of the city.

Since it had to be done, she pushed aside her annoyance and drew the metal over her in a rough sphere, liquefying rusty pipes and mangled wrecks on the fly, shedding rust. A swirl of metal rose around her in a spiral like a giant screw, providing basic coverage as she got out of the car. Taking a deep breath, she plunged metal into the ground, deep into the magic lake.

The power was turbulent this time, a rough ocean out to test her. Maintaining iron focus, she patiently welded metal to magic, soldering them together until they became a seamless whole.

She became aware of someone shouting in her ear. Wincing, she touched her Bluetooth headset. “Not so loud! What?”

“You promised to tell me when the bunker was done. It’s been twenty-five minutes!”

She blinked, realized she was standing in darkness, and felt for the car door to switch on the headlights. “Yeah, I was going to. I just anchored it first.” Her voice echoed inside the conical metal.” She tuned him out as he offered his opinion on that and grabbed a bottle of grape juice. “I’m fine. Seriously, I’m rehydrating and everything. You’ve got to relax a little.”

She could practically hear him roll his eyes.

“You’re going to make me take up smoking again, I swear! Fine. You’re coming home tonight, right? Things have changed?”

“Dude, I’m cocooned in a foot thick of solid iron right now; even you would say my position is secure. I’ve got food and supplies for a week and I’ve seriously got to work. I can’t pull this off if I don’t live on site. You know that. Right?”

His grunt was unhappy. “Fine. At least text me a picture? I’ll feel better if I know you won’t be eaten alive.”

She glanced up at the roof. “Inside’s a bit dark right now, but I’ll have Iron Eagle send you an aerial. Stand by.”

Ike made a surprised sound when the text came through. “Wow. Okay. A foot thick, you say?”

“Yep. I’m set. Let me get some work done and I’ll get back to you at lunch, okay?”

“Wait! If that thing’s a foot thick, how are you getting cell reception?”

She blinked. When the answer came to her, she grinned. “I’m magic, cuz.”